


Aglow

by aviatordame



Category: Hyrule Warriors: Age of Calamity (Video Game)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-19 05:21:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29621235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aviatordame/pseuds/aviatordame
Summary: Zelda is the moon itself. Her face broken in shadow, a personality split. The beast and angel, carved into one.[Impa/Zelda ; smut]
Relationships: Impa/Zelda (Legend of Zelda)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 18





	Aglow

They should not have survived. 

Death felt familiar in that moment. Final seconds in which she thought, _okay — it’s time_. To be able to accept one’s mortality, to truly comprehend everything, _everything_ , burns and dies. That, because of her, all their efforts, the blood and anger, all of it a pointless. 

It is tricky to remember what happened next. Although it is hard to erase the sound of Impa’s cry — not so much a plea, but a call Zelda has never heard before. Not for _her_ , anyway. _Nobody calls out for her_. Surely, she doesn’t matter enough for anybody to reach for her, to practically _scream_ her name. 

By the time Zelda registered what she has done, whom she had intentionally hurt, it was much too late. 

The magic and power flowed through her like sin; the entire world, vulnerable and succumbing to all the greatness she possessed. No longer the young, fragile princess but terrifying, monstrous and utterly glorious. 

‘That power.’ 

Because it can’t be true. It can’t be. Those wretched legends they all learnt from a young age. The rumour that this Princess Zelda would own powers belonging to another realm; _what Impa saw was not human_ , and as much as she wants to be proud of the woman she serves, it is hard to dismiss the nightmare slowly gnawing its way deep into her heart. 

Yet, still, she breathes, and her smile is just disbelief. 

‘I knew you could do it.’ 

And Zelda can hear her, hear all that she hides; her heart inevitably breaking when Zelda realises Impa is afraid of her. It is enough to draw tears, everything she achieved, fallen to ash, slipping through her fingers, and she wishes now more than ever she was never born. 

Once the battle subsides, for now, Zelda approaches her outside the camp.

Lady Mipha is busy treating the wounded; Urbosa and Daruk preparing food, while Link prepares a fire. There is an air of celebration and fear. Nobody knows what is going to happen next. 

Zelda doesn’t enjoy Impa’s absence. She finds the sheikah alone, watching Hyrule Castle from miles away, coming to terms with what she once thought true, what she initially believed Princess Zelda to be. 

A horror settling in her bones. 

_What have we done?_

What has she enabled? What has she allowed Zelda to become, and what does this mean now? They never spoke of this in the legends. The mythical word so romantic and infuriatingly far apart from what Impa witnessed back there. 

And, if only she had held Zelda _tighter_. If only she hadn’t let her go. Then, perhaps, Impa wouldn’t feel so small around the woman she has protected her entire life. _She is **sorry** , sorry to have let go of her; sorry she failed_. 

‘—I made you worry for a second back there, didn’t I?’ 

Zelda is the moon itself. Her face broken in shadow, a personality split. The beast and angel, carved into one. 

The back of her hand glows. No longer dormant. As if _grinning_ at the mortal before her; the cruellest reminder of what is so out of her control. 

_You always make me worry_ , but she won’t admit to that. She can’t express to Zelda how much her very soul weighs like steel in her heart; how, somewhere along the way, it stung so beautifully just how much Impa would give for her. _Burn it_ , she would burn the world, _tear apart her own body_ , only for Zelda, all for her; and, that’s exactly how it’s always been. 

Her. Just, her. 

‘Nah,’ Impa smirks. ‘It’s okay. I should’ve known.’ 

‘I couldn’t allow Link to die.’ 

_And I can’t allow you to die, either_. 

Impa exhales, and her voice trembles only slightly. A minor, yet significant exposure to all that she is feeling. She can’t help but feel betrayed by her own voice, and it is odd, _awful_ , to endure such fragility before a woman who should only perceive her strength. 

‘You did the right thing,’ Impa, strangled, reaches for her own sleeve, tugs a little. ‘Perhaps, if it is your intention to do that again, let me know in advance.’ 

‘I have hurt you. Haven’t I?’ 

At once Impa is in denial. 

But shocked. _Insulted_ , even, that Zelda would jump to that sort of conclusion. It is not Impa’s right to be hurt, let alone by the princess. 

Nobody looks at Impa and wonders, _I have hurt you_. 

‘What helped — was to think of you,’ Zelda confesses, voice light. ‘You keep me calm. You’ve always helped me stay calm. I needed you to help me overcome everything in order to do _this_ ,’ she idly raises her hand, the Triforce bright and alive, ‘But, to _hurt_ you,’ Zelda winces, ‘I’d take it all back.’ 

Impa watches the glow of her hand in awe, frustrated and bloody. And Zelda’s words puncture like a knife. Slowly, she raises her eyes, just to look at her, and it’s a mistake; all the oxygen ripped from her lungs, heart collapsing, the sight of Zelda crying a reality unimaginable. 

The princess wipes her tears, and she’s so _tired_ , so worn out, and her poor body shakes, thinking _yes, surely, this is when you leave me forever_. 

‘Please,’ Zelda begs, ‘Don’t hate me.’ 

Beyond desperate, Impa reaches for her, and she cuddles Zelda so wonderfully, _so much like home_ , and Zelda pulls at her haori, yanks softly at Impa’s collar, and slams her mouth onto hers. 

Zelda is chaos. She tries, _tries_ , to push herself closer, but each time, she seems to _slip_ , her hands immediately retreating, face flushed, a gasp as she nearly reconsiders; but, again, holding Impa’s face between her hands and kissing her, kissing her, kissing her until they’re sore and bruised. 

Eventually, _finally_ , Impa responds. She manages to tame her briefly, guiding Zelda softly, her lips achingly tender against her own. Zelda whimpers, her skin beginning to singe as Impa presses kisses down her neck, reaching her jawline; Zelda’s eyes roll into the back of her head, _gasps_ , hands trembling as she struggles to feel her, touch her, _love_ her. Holds her, body soaring, _her very life depends on this woman_ , and she silently weeps for her to stay.

_Don’t hate me._

_Don’t die._

_Don’t let me go._

Their hands bump together, fumbling, clumsy as they reach for each other through the hysteria. It nearly winds Zelda, falling back into the hard ground, and it’s so obviously an accident, but even when Impa tries to apologise, Zelda crushes their lips together. The cold slowly evaporating as Impa pushes her scarred and torn body against hers, held and wanted, and it’s close to maddening.

How it feels, to be kissed this way; it doesn’t need to be voiced.

Newly formed urgency captures them, something forbidden and overwhelming, as Zelda’s fingers tear at her clothes; ridding the armour, pressing her palms to naked skin. She exhales, shuddering, feeling whole and alive when Impa so _carefully_ cups her breast, squeezes once, takes her nipple in her mouth, and her tongue, hot and attentive, strikes Zelda entirely.

She pulls, moans, eyes shut, lips parted, _trying to breathe_.

Needing this, _wanting more_ , Zelda leans up, kissing her, knocking her hips against hers, exhaling, _yes_ , but she has to have Impa closer. None of this feels possible. It’s too much. _So much_. She expects to wake up, and for it all to be a dream; to be kissed this way, touched this way, _by her_ , but Zelda’s thoughts are interrupted as Impa’s hands dangerously smooth down her waist, hips, meeting where Zelda _throbs_ for her, wet and inviting.

They still. Just for a moment. Impa watches her, eyes half shut, the woman beneath surrounded in a halo of her own. Zelda is bright _—_ close to _blinding_ , and Impa can feel the energy bouncing off of her; it’s so heavy, so wild, it could potentially wound Impa in the process, but the sheikah cares little. She only has one thing on her mind, and it is hard to ignore the desire.

It’s soft, _telling_ , when Impa leans over to kiss her _—_ once, and so _gently_ , Zelda nearly shatters.

Suddenly Zelda grabs Impa’s wrists.

‘Do you forgive me?’

For the first time in days, Impa smiles, and it’s lovely.

‘Of course,’ she whispers. ‘Let me make you feel better.’

_Let me help you forget—for now, at least._

_Let me love you_.

When Impa slowly, beautifully, drags her tongue up and against her clit, Zelda bites down on her lip, hard; she raises her hips, scrunches her eyes shut, writhing and tossing, her body alive, shaking, heart practically _singing_. Impa presses her palms into Zelda’s thighs, and each time Zelda moves too abruptly, desperate for relief, she persists, patient, loving the swell of Zelda’s clit as Zelda gradually learns how to ride the pleasure, to _calm_ , relax and sink into Impa.

Zelda rolls her hips back. Squirming, whimpering, as Impa glides her tongue from her clit, down to her entrance, positively soaked, welcoming. Zelda inhales sharply, a smile reaching her lips as Impa so fantastically pushes her tongue inside her, the friction itself enough to drive Zelda wild. Impa can feel her tighten, her body beginning to tense, Zelda humming, sighing _—_

‘ _Impa_ ,’ she moans, ‘Gods,’ Zelda throws her head back, ‘ _Impa—_ ’ and she exclaims, an abrupt, harsh cry as she lets herself come undone.

Time. Time is what she needs as she tries to recover. Heart heavy in her ears, a solace she has never endured before holding her close. Zelda feels free, liberated from the chains of her crown, and painfully in love.

She wishes this forever. Locked in their own little world, alone, trapped, safe and together. When Zelda remembers how to open her eyes, she idly smiles up at Impa who waits patiently, loyally, for her to come back. There isn’t smugness in Impa’s eyes, nor panic; neither the fear she witnessed moments ago.

This is different. Delicate, so easy to break apart; so familiar in her chest as she reaches to kiss her, worn out and alleviated.

Zelda nearly says it.

 _I love you_.

A promise, nestled close, as Zelda brings her arms around Impa’s middle; kissing her broken bones and torn body, sighing as they hold each other, love each other, for a little while longer.

Their war temporary ceased, the ascent heavenward, and all else sweet irrelevance.

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly miss these two. And, I don't know, the idea they were bonking during the game is always an entertaining thought. This is for my lovely Impa/Zelda readers! Thank you for your support with everything. <3


End file.
